The Magician's Shout
by PokeNole123
Summary: What if there was a second Dragonborn? Born of two mages, a mixed breed of Bosmer and Nord, Tiren is blessed with a natural affinity for all things magic. When one day a Dragon attacks his Homestead in the Falkreath wilderness, he must set out to discover the potential of both his magic and newfound Thu'um. Takes place in the main quests timeline right after the "Dragon Rising"
1. Chapter 1

The Magician's Shout

Sweat dripped down his brow and into his eyes as a young man struck log after log with his axe. With every swing he felt his muscles struggle and ache, but no more than what he was used to. Plus, he smiled at the thought of finishing up the last of his chores and relaxing to a hearty stew after a long days work.

More of a boy than a young man, Tiren was 17 years old, and had spent his day chopping wood, checking the snares, milking the cow, and working in the garden. But in return for all of his hard work, Tiren got to appreciate the fresh air and beautiful view of the Falkreath wilderness. After he finished his chores, he'd go down to the lake to clean up and cool off, and then get to work on cooking the rabbit he'd caught this morning.

Tiren had lived at this homestead for all of his life. He lived off the land and worked hard to keep everything fit and functioning. He spent the majority of his days alone, while his father was off on deliveries into Falkreath or Whiterun. And when he was home, any time not spent eating, sleeping, or educating Tiren was spent in the homestead's tower hard at work.

Tiren's father was an accomplished mage. After spending nearly a decade at the College of Winterhold and another decade bouncing around from Hold to Hold working as a court mage he'd finally saved enough to but himself his own plot of land in the Falkreath wilderness. Here he raised Tiren safely, and worked as a contract enchanter for the jarls, captains, and nobles of the nearby Holds. This ensured enough money came in to support the homestead, and to provide for supplies and a generous emergency fund should a pack of wolves kill some of the livestock.

Tiren appreciated how hard his father worked to provide from him, but it sometimes could get lonely out on the Homestead. He often wished he could spend more time with the man.

And that is why Tiren took full advantage of every opportunity he got to be around his father. And that included the lesson that his promised him after dinner.

The thought of it gave Tiren the energy needed to finish his work, and afterwards he ran down the hillside, threw off his clothes and leapt into the lake. He didn't stay in the water for long, as it was very cold, but he enjoyed the brisk swim. Afterwards he proceeded back up the hill and got to work on dinner.

As he began skinning the dead hare, he started mentally going over all the questions he had for his dad about what he'd been studying this past week. This week he'd finished an interesting book about the history of the Falmer, and for fun had read another one of his favorites, "Mixed Unit Tactics". He couldn't wait to ask him about Dwemer ruins, and why the Falmer were so drawn to them? Had he ever studied a Dwemer ruin? Had he ever encountered the Falmer?

But of course all this lessons about history and world aside, what he was truly excited for was his magic lesson. Tiren had spent the past several weeks mastering the transmutation spell his Father had taught him, and now was finally ready to move onto something new.

Tiren loved magic. He'd shown a natural affinity for it ever since he was a boy, and his father had given him lessons and tomes to study over the years. He had spent hours reading, studying, and practicing the ins and outs of any spell he could convince his father to teach him.

As Tiren stirred the stew pot his mind began to stir as well, wondering what new spell would be presented to him today. He'd gotten a solid handle on basic wards and heals, and while it had been a bit of a struggle, transmutation wasn't a problem for him now either.

Tiren said a silent prayer to Julianos it'd finally be a destruction spell, but he knew better than that. His father had been very clear about how he felt on that subject. So with that in mind, Tiren was simply clamoring for a new challenge. Maybe it would be something in the school of Illusion? He'd read about many battles being decided by fear, or rallying spell. Or even invisibility! His mind raced at the thought of that.

But it was then that Tiren snapped back into reality, and quickly stopped what he was doing and took the stew pot off the fire before he overcooked it. He then turned as he heard a door shut behind him and he faced his father.

His father was a good three inches taller than Tiren, due to his pureblooded Nord ancestry. He had a thin grey beard, and a strong Nord jaw. Anyone who looked at just his face would've thought him a warrior. He was dressed in his blue mage's robes and a hood. His hood was pulled down though, and immediately took off his robes to reveal a simple wool tunic and pants underneath. Without his robes you saw a thinner Nord than most, but still a physique that would make the strongest elf look meek by comparison. He sniffed the air, smiled and hugged his son.

"Smells like a fine stew my boy! How was your day?" He asked.

Tiren turned from his father and began pouring two bowls while he responded, "It was a hard day's work but no problem's arose. And luckily Kynareth blessed our snares with a fine hare this morning, or this stew would have lost its heartiness. How about you father? Were you able to bind that broadsword for the Jarl?"

"Yes! But boy was that tiresome. He gave specific instructions in concerns to its level of power, and I just didn't have a soul gem strong enough to do it on its own. So I had to invest a lot of my own energy into stretching that lesser soul far enough to satisfy the contract."

Tiren nodded and handed his father his bowl. He worried about his Father sometimes. He'd sworn off the majority of Necromancy, short of the simplest conjurations, and refused to bind the souls of people to his gems. This made it difficult to fill his gems with the necessary power though. It had gotten to the point where he almost looked forward to trolls attacking the Homestead just so he'd be able to harvest something strong enough. And Tiren also worried about the physical toll investing his own energy into the enchantment could have in the long run.

But as they ate, Tiren described what he'd studied and read that week, and took the opportunity to ask his questions about the Falmer and Dwemer to his father. He was always astounded at the depth of knowledge his father displayed. Tiren wondered how it was that he had the time to study and obtain all of this knowledge.

But while the two ate and spoke, Tiren's excitement over tonight's new spell overwhelmed him. The suspense was killing him! Finally he just couldn't take it.

"So please Father tell me! What new spell am I learning tonight!?" Tiren exclaimed.

The Nord grinned. He took that moment to examine his son's excited face. He had grown so much in what felt like but an instant. Could he really be seventeen? He still remembered holding him as a child, as he and his mother cradled him to sleep in the Hall of Elements at the college.

He saw so much of his mother in Tiren. Tiren had a soft round jaw, an obvious cross between his mother's Bosmer pointed one and his own hard Nordish one. He has his mother's deep brown eyes, and while his ears were not totally dominated by his Bosmer heritage, had the slightest point to them.

Tiren was in between the two races in height, standing as tall as the shortest Nord, or tallest Bosmer. His skin was not a Nordish pale but instead a slight olive color, and his face was clean-shaven. His hair was medium length and a dark brown, but kept tidy as it flowed back behind his ears.

"_Nienna would be so proud to see you today." _Styrnbjorn thought.

Styrnbjorn envied his son in a way. While he had to struggle and train for hours on end as a young mage to strengthen his magicka and grasp new spells, Tiren seemed to simply have magic in his blood. Despite his inexperience, Styrnbjorn guessed that his son's total level of magicka had already begun to surpass his own. His talent and affinity for it was impressive even by eleven standards. But he smiled and realized he shouldn't be surprised.

"_You are your mother's son." _

So as Styrnbjorn sipped his last spoonful of stew he finally responded to his overzealous pupil.

"Well son, your just in luck! While I was gone on my last delivery, I picked up these from a Kajiit trader." Styrnbjorn said as walked over to the table near the door and began sorting through his knapsack.

After a moment, he pulled out two books, walked over, and placed them on the table in front of Tiren. Tiren looked at the books and noticed the covers. The first was a symbol he knew well; it was the symbol for the school of Alteration. The other book was a purple book with a mark of a flaming hand on it. Tiren looked up at his father with shock in his eyes. His father had always lectured him on the dangers of destruction magic, and how its misuse was an easy way to get you killed!

"Father.. Is that..?" Tiren said slowly.

"Yes. That tome teaches and describes the methods behind the simplest of flame spells."

Styrnbjorn knew that look in his son's eye. His excitement and enthusiasm could hardly be contained. He knew he needed to temper this now.

"Now listen to me Tiren. I am showing you this tome for a reason. Destruction magic is a dangerous thing. People can die. And not just those you intend to be on the receiving end of your spells, destruction can hurt your allies, innocent people, and anyone that gets in its path. You have to become adept at controlling and aiming a spell in all situations. That is why you will not get this tome to study until you have mastered the other." Styrnbjorn said pointing at the other tome.

Tiren had lost a bit of his excitement, but he it had been replaced with a serious determination. He looked at the other tome, and then back up at his father.

"So then which spell tome is this one father?" Tiren asked.

"Telekinesis. One of the most pure and raw forms of magic. It is the ability to push, pull, and throw objects through the air. It can be rather draining on one's magicka, and most mages cannot sustain it for very long, but it will allow you to get used to aiming a projectile with magic. While it wont translate perfectly, it will get you prepared for when you start learning and harnessing destruction spells." Styrnbjorn explained.

Tiren looked at his father with fascination. To spur this fascination further, Styrnbjorn summoned the spell to his hand. His right hand began to glow with an orange aura. He harnessed it, and then pointed at the spoon sitting in his soup bowl and made a pulling gesture. The spoon immediately floated to him in a swift motion. Styrnbjorn then motioned again, this time extending his arm out and launching the spoon towards the far wall. The spoon flew swiftly and stuck into the wall with a soft crack.

"In three days I will be taking a day off from my work and we're spending the day doing some field training." Styrnbjorn said calmly, "Until then, study that tome. It should be pretty simple for you to master the basic concept of the spell, but as far as using spells it combat situations, we'll see about that soon."

Then Styrnbjorn took the destruction tome from his son and kissed his forehead goodnight. As Tiren watched his father shut the door to his room, he immediately opened cracked open his new book and excitedly studied his new spell.

**Author's Note:**

**I'd like thank you for reading my first chapter! Hopefully this will be an interesting take on the world of Skyrim.**

**This story will coincide with the main quest line of the game, and actually takes place just days after the Dragon Rising quest in the traditional story ark. (For those that don't remember, that's the dragon attack on the Western Watchtower in Whiterun). **

**Creating my own character in the world separate from the original Dragonborn should provide an interesting freedom in the writing style, and I'm excited!**

**I love any reviews or constructive criticism as I am new at this. And I'll try to update at least once a week!**


	2. Chapter 2

The Magician's Shout

It hadn't taken long for Tiren to get a handle of telekinesis.

His Father was right. It was magic in one of its purest and simplest forms. The trick to it was that he had to get a mental grasp on where exactly he needed to direct the forces on said object, and apply the forces accordingly. This was not any easy thing to wrap his head around but eventually spinning, twirling, pushing, pulling, and most importantly launching an object in any direction became quite natural. He had been practicing every opportunity he got over those three days, trying to use his hands for any simple task, instead using his spell.

He also reread books like "Mixed Unit Tactics" and read knew ones he found in his father's library like, "Mages on the Battlefield" and "The Imperial Battlemages". He wanted to study and work through all the combat situations that he would use destruction magic in, so as to prove to his father that he could handle it.

Finally three days past, and Tiren awoke to find his father waiting outside for him. Styrnbjorn stood dressed in his blue mages robes, and wore a determined grin on his face. As Tiren walked into the morning sunlight, he saw that his father was standing next to a large pile of melons. Tiren was confused.

"Melons?" Tiren questioned.

Then that orange glow of telekinesis covered his father's gloves, and he launched a melon right into Tiren's hands. Tiren realized these weren't melons, they were ammunition.

"Good morning son! Welcome to combat training." Styrnbjorn said with a smile. Styrnbjorn pointed at what appeared to be a ghostly man about 40 yards away. "Today your going to be working on using magic to launch projectiles such as firebolts, or in our case melons, in combat situations. See that is a specter I conjured? He is going to charge and attack you. Hit him with a melon and he will disappear. Understand?"

Tiren looked at his father and nodded in response. Styrnbjorn snapped his finger and in that instant the specter charged. It was a blue ghostly image of a bandit dressed in simple fur armor and wielding a greatsword. The specter ran with reckless abandon at Tiren, but Tiren confidently grabbed a melon with his telekinesis. Taking only a split second to aim, Tiren fired his melon as hard as he could and it slammed into the torso of the specter. With that, Styrnbjorn snapped his fingers again, dismissing the ghostly warrior.

And so the training was laid out. Styrnbjorn would summon a specter, and whenever it's weapon touched Tiren or it was "killed" with a melon, the specter would be dismissed instantly.

They repeated this exercise again and again, and even expanded on it. Several times multiple specters were sent at Tiren at once, and it was up to him to fight all of them off. During one exercise in particular, four specters charged him, and while Tiren was able to dispose of two before the ghosts reached him, he had to fight close combat against the ghosts. No weapon in hand, Tiren dipped, dove, and ducked away from the flurry of attacks until he could gather his energy and strike again. But he eventually cleared this challenge as well.

Styrnbjorn had even accounted for the reality of spells with a blast radius, such as the common fireball. In response to this issue, he'd enchanted specific melons to explode on impact. He then trained Tiren on proper use of exploding attacks to dispose of multiple enemies.

Finally the pair broke for lunch, and proceeded to eat salted meats and berries from the garden. Styrnbjorn was proud of his son's progress, as it was truly remarkable his natural talent on the matter. But even his son hadn't prepared for what he would face in his next test.

Styrnbjorn looked at his son sternly.

"You've done great with the combat exercises up until now, but now we're going to have you facing a much more serious reality. Magic is your weapon; it is your means of fighting. And why is it that you wish to learn to fight son?" Styrnbjorn said solemnly.

Tiren took a moment to think on the matter, and then finally came to his conclusion. He'd read books and stories of powerful warriors and mages that used their strength to fight for what was right. Those who fought for honor and the safety of those who couldn't.

"I wish to learn to fight to protect myself, but more importantly, to protect the innocent, the defenseless, and those I care about." Tiren said with an aura of confidence.

Styrnbjorn nodded at his son's answer. It was perfect.

"Then that is why this next exercise is so important. Magic is your means of protecting those important to you, but used incorrectly, can also hurt those which you mean to protect, Tiren." Styrnbjorn said with a depth and tinge of remorse in his voice.

Tiren wondered for a moment what his father was thinking, when all the sudden his father began to move. He waved his arms in a swirling motion and then lifted them up high in the air. With this he summoned this time ten specters total in a circle around the two of them.

Styrnbjorn took a moment to catch his breath, and then casted a red illusion spell on three of the spectors. Tiren couldn't believe his eyes when he saw the blue ghostly warriors become the image of children. Even the color of their aura change to a bright red, and the children stood innocently.

Tiren looked at his father with amazement and asked, "What is the meaning of all of this father?"

"These children are those you wish to protect, and they will be scattered throughout the forest. The specters are those whom would hurt them. It will be your job to protect them." Styrnbjorn said as he snapped his fingers.

All of the sudden the specters faded a way, only to reappear at their assigned locations throughout the Falkreath forest. Styrnbjorn handed Tiren a large knapsack full of melons. Tiren lifted the sack waiting for a large wait, but was pleased to find out a weightlessness charm had been placed on it. Tiren looked at his Father for further instruction.

"Inside that sack are five melons. Two exploding, three simple. This limited ammo is similar to your limited magicka in a fight. Should you hit a child in any way, it will fade. Should you let the other spectors strike the children, then they will fade. We will run this exercise repeatedly until all three children are saved, and every specter defeated."

On Tiren's third try, he was determined to finish properly. He had failed his first time by running out of melons before he could kill the last specter. His second attempt a child had been caught in the radius of one of his exploding melons. This time though, he was determined.

What made the task difficult though, was that their positions and circumstances changed each time, so repeating the task again provided little advantages.

Tiren ran into the forest and heard the first child screaming. A ghostly boy ran as he was chased by a specter, and Tiren fired his first simple melon hitting the specter square in the back and it disappeared. Tiren ran over to secure the child, but before he could reach him, another specter came out from a tree behind the boy and surprised him. Thinking quickly, and with no time to ready an attack, Tiren sprinted at the child and grabbed him before the specter's axe swung down.

Feeling increasingly confident in his Bosmer agility, turned and launched a simple melon at the specter and hit the side of its head. Scanning for further threats to this first boy, Tiren assessed he was safe and left the child where he stood.

He ran further into the forest to see three specters cornering a little girl against a tree. Tiren readied an exploding melon this time and took particular aim. His goal was not to hit the specters head on, for that would hit the little girl as well. Instead he aimed behind them, far enough to simply catch them within the radius.

He slung his melon with perfect accuracy and it unleashed a barrage of red, sugary, death upon the specters. Styrnbjorn watched from afar, snapping his fingers and dismissing his ghosts.

Tiren looked left and right for the third child, and finally spotted a the boy running from a pursuing blue ghost. Tiren was about to bolt after them, when he felt his reflexes telling him to duck. He has done so at the perfect moment, just managing to dodge a spectral greatsword as it swung high and hit a tree beside him. Tiren turned to face his attacker, but had to immediately go on the defensive as he dodged swing after swing. Much to his dismay, one slash caught his knapsack, causing his last two melons to fall to the ground and roll several paces away.

To make matters worse, Tiren glanced over at the boy to see that his pursuer had cornered him against a tree. To make matters even worse, Tiren's own attacker stood between him and his precious fruit on the ground in front of him. Both specters lifted their weapons high for a final attack, and Tiren knew he had to strike quickly. He had no time to pull a melon in close and fire, so he was unsure of his aim, but he simply had to trust his instincts and reflexes. He closed his eyes and breathed.

Then in one motion he pulled one melon towards his body at full speed, hitting the specter in front of him square in the back, and then spun to fling the other melon at the second specter with blinding speed. In one moment melon exploded all over the back of one, and hit the skull of another.

And both specters vanished.

Tiren wiped a small piece of the red fruit from his brow and shouted with glee. He'd done it! He was ready!

Styrnbjorn looked down the hill at his son and smiled. He was so proud of the boy's accomplishment.

"_He's definitely your son, Sienna."_ Styrnbjorn thought as a tear rolled down his cheek.

Now he was finally ready to learn about the world of destruction, no longer having its dangers held back from him. Styrnbjorn was frightened at the thought, but then nodded to himself. His son was ready.

Styrnbjron looked into the sky with a tearful smile.

But then his heart stopped.

And then the dragon roared.

Tiren felt a hard chill flow down his tired spine. He was going to need some bigger melons.

**Author's Note:**

** Now you may be wondering, "what the heck is a specter?!" For the concept of the training exercise to work, I wanted a conjure that seemed human. So you know how every "important" ghost is skyrim is basically a blue version of themself? Well imagine specters to seem something like that.**

** I also hope you'll appreciate some of the liberties I've taken with magic. Stuff like more than one conjure, the strengthening of telekinesis, etc. I will be using the spells in the game for the base of all the story's magic, but I'll be taking similar liberties throughout.**

** Also, what'd you think of the melon-based combat? Lol I promise it will not be a mainstay in the story, but telekinesis will, and I thought it was an interesting way to train Tiren in fighting.**

** Please review, follow or favorite! I'd love the criticism or input!**

** P.S. I know the last line was lame, but you know you loved it!**


	3. Chapter 3

The Magician's Shout

Styrnbjorn panicked. That was a true to life dragon, from the legends and the stories. Throughout his travels to the nearby cities he'd heard rumors of attacks at Helgen and outside Whiterun. Hell! He'd even heard rumors of a "Dragonborn" appearing and slaying dragons! But Styrnbjorn had simply laughed to himself at the time. Nords were always getting too rapped up in their legends. But this wasn't a legend.

Legends don't burn down homesteads.

As the dragon drew closer, Styrnbjorn yelled for Tiren to come close to him, and then began to cast spell after spell, and enchantment after enchantment, upon the two of them. Tiren was dressed in his simple brown tunic and slacks, not very protective armor, but Styrnbjorn could make it fire resistant at the least.

But these enchantments. Without an enchanter's table or soul gems. They were sucking away his life force faster than ever before.

He knew he had to save some amount of magicka for fighting, so he only casted one more spell. The strongest armor spell he could muster, Ebonyflesh, coated Tiren's body.

Tiren was terrified. He just stood there staring at the beast while it flew towards them getting closer and closer. He had never seen anything more incredible, and yet more terrifying. He'd heard the stories and read the books; dragons were a major part of Skyrim's lore and legend. But he never thought…

Tiren felt a light tap in the back of his head. He turned to see his father holding his hand. He'd apparently smacked the back of his head, forgetting the solid armor and was some around him.

"It's a good thing I don't swing a sword," Styrnbjorn thought, "Or I'd be crippled for this fight."

Tiren looked into his father's eyes and looked for the fear. He searched for the fear that was in his own. He didn't see it, only determination.

"Tiren. Run to my tower and get my staff. It is our ONLY chance of beating this thing!" Styrnbjorn ordered.

Tiren nodded and ran, still struggling to believe what was happening. But Styrnbjorn needed not concern himself with that now. Now he must fight a dragon.

_"Let's see what my ancestor's made such a fuss about.." _

Tiren flew up the stairs and into his father's enchanter's tower, a place he'd only been in a handful of times, all without permission. Such a rich tapestry of magical artifacts as gems, potions, and weapons to be enchanted lined the walls. But up on the wall above his enchanter's table hung his staff, Stormfire, and Tiren immediately grabbed it. Without thinking, on his way out he grabbed a small Orcish shortsword and some potions as well, figuring it was better than nothing.

But as Tiren was about to head outside again, he heard a second roar. This one closer and much louder than the first. Was he really going to do this?

Was he going to fight a dragon?

Tiren couldn't move. He couldn't bring himself to face the beast. But then he heard another cry.

This time it was his father's.

And with that, Tiren snapped back into reality and sprinted out the door.

Styrnbjorn didn't boast incredible reserves of magicka. He didn't cast spells with overwhelming amounts of force. He wasn't gifted like the Elves or the Bretons.

He was efficient.

Styrnbjorn had spent his entire life learning to channel his magic in the absolute most efficient way possible, therefore maximizing his use out of every bit of his own magicka. He was a master of casting powerful spells with perfect technique, therefore moving past his handicap.

And that factor was being put to the test now, as he was even weaker now then usual from the enchantments and spells he'd used on himself and Tiren.

The dragon though, was a no loss for power. The dragon dove at Styrnbjorn with incredible speed, and once he was close unleashed a mighty stream of fire before pulling up and circling around for another pass. Styrnbjorn had just enough time to react and charge his ward.

As the dragon came around for another dive, Styrnbjorn attacked. In a flurry of motion he threw two powerful fireballs, and then threw both hands out at the dragon and dual-casted a mighty lightning bolt.

Through a swift maneuver the dragon rolled and dodged the incoming fireballs, only to be struck hard in the jaw by the lightning. The beast's neck jerked back, and it pulled up to hover above the wizard.

Styrnbjorn relished the opportunity for a still target and fired. Twin ice spikes launched for the dragon's eyes, and while they missed their mark, they forced the dragon to close its eyes in a flinch. Taking advantage of this, Styrnbjorn gathered energy and used telekinesis to grab onto a boulder underneath the hovering dragon. Then with a mighty grunt hurled the boulder straight up, slamming the beast in its softer underbelly. The strike had a notable affect on the dragon, as it appeared to knock the wind out of the beast, causing it t drop to the ground with a loud boom as it fell down on all fours.

Tiren, having been watching up till now in amazement, was about to cheer. The dragon was wounded!

_"We have a chance!" _He thought.

Tiren ran to his father with a newfound confidence in his heart. He was to give him his staff so that the finishing blow might be delivered. But within two steps Tiren's heart sank.

Styrnbjorn collapsed to his hands and knees as well. It was almost as though he and the dragon were mimicking each other directly. Styrnbjorn coughed roughly, and looked to the ground to see his own blood lie there.

Styrnbjorn cursed. He was too exhausted to finish this fight with his own magic, where was his staff? He looked around desperately to see Tiren holding Stormfire, and watched him launch it towards him with his telekinesis. Styrnbjorn caught it, pleased to have his weapon back in his hands again. At first glance by anyone it was a normal staff, but a true mage could see different.

Stormfire was an enchanter's masterpiece. It was a long rod painted a midnight blue. On each end, it was infused with large, perfectly symmetrical gemstones from which the staff's magic flowed. On one end was a sapphire, infused with the power of a storm's lightning. On the other was ruby, infused with the power of a sun's fire. The wood itself was taken from an ancient and powerful tree, descended from the Eldergleam, and was nigh indestructible by most magic or weapons.

Stormfire was Styrnbjorn's life's work, and had been with him for all of his most mighty of adventures.

And now it was truly time to put it to the test.

Styrnbjorn rose to his feet, and unleashed the full power of the staff's lightning on the beast. Streams of powerful bolts screamed from the staff. The dragon roared in pain as the bolts struck him, and Styrnbjorn could now see the beast physically weakening. He twirled the staff around and was about to launch his flame at the beast, when he noticed it begin to recoil it's neck for an attack.

Styrnbjorn, expecting a mighty flame, could not afford to be caught off guard. So he planted Stormfire into the ground in front of him and used both hands to dual-cast the strongest ward he could muster.

When the dragon released its attack, it cried out in the ancient tongue a mighty shout. Styrnbjorn couldn't make out the first two words over his son's scream. But the third rang loud and terrible.

_"DAH!"_

A wave of utter force launched Styrnbjorn flying back at an immense speed. He quickly slammed into a tree behind him with a loud thud. The only thing that rang louder to Tiren than that dragon's shout was the vicious crack as he watched his Father's spine break against the hard tree trunk.

Tiren dropped to his knees as he stared at his father. He couldn't tell whether he was unconscious or alive, but either way he was alone. Tiren had never felt more helpless.

Tiren heard the booming footsteps as the dragon walked towards him, and he looked up with tearful eyes to see the beast towering in front of him.

**Author's note:**

** Shorter chapter, but bear with me. I wanted to emphasize Tiren's first dragon specifically.**

** I'll update soon! Favorite, review and follow!**


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